


Making an Exception

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Riddick (2013), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Banter, Chocolate Box Exchange, F/M, Fade to Black, Missing Scene, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9707147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: "You callthisasking sweet-like?" Riddick laughed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> Written as a treat in Chocolate Box Round 2. Set in the gap between Dahl rescuing Riddick, and him flying off on his own at the end of the movie. Contains vaguely described wound care, but nothing graphic.

Dahl shifted her weight on her patient's thighs, using her weight as leverage to trap him more securely against the seat, and began carefully unsticking the edge of the bandage taped across his chest. She wouldn't normally have gone to such lengths for anyone, never mind a former bounty, but then again, most people she'd had to patch up since she'd joined Johns' crew as sniper and back-up medic weren't fucking lunatics who'd cauterized their own near-fatal wounds in the field and then tried to walk it off afterward.

After everything that had happened? After Moss and Lockspur's deaths, after Santana, after that nightmare walk through the valley of the monsters? Riddick didn't get to die from a fucking septic wound. So if he insisted on leaving the med bunk half-healed, he was just going to have to deal with Dahl's less-than-tender ministrations outside of it.

The fact that he seemed to be enjoying her attention just a little too much? Well, it wasn't like she hadn't known what she was getting into.

She swatted at his uninjured side as he shifted underneath her in turn, big callused hands bracketing her hips. "I said, fucking _sit still_ already," she swore at him. "If you make me yank this off, it's going to hurt you worse than it's going to hurt me."

"Might want to take your own advice," Riddick rumbled in reply, one corner of his mouth curling upward. He had his goggles off in the half-dimmed lighting of the ship's tiny galley slash mess deck; he'd been fixing himself a cup of tea of all things when she'd tracked him down, those spooky silver eyes flashing at her from the shadows. They crinkled at the corners now as he rolled his hips again, this time with more deliberate intent. "It's making things a little ... difficult."

She snorted at him, raising an eyebrow as she finished peeling off the bandage and the dressings. A fucking crater in his chest, and the arrogant bastard was _still_ coming on to her. By this point, it had actually gone past terrible and back around to impressive; if there was one thing she'd learned about Riddick over the last couple of days, it was that he lived up to his advertising. It was almost enough to make a girl wonder just how ... deep ... that reputation went.

"I'd ask if that was a knife in your pocket, but at the moment, I'm more worried about the hole in _you_ than the one in _me_ ," she replied dryly, leaning back to reach for the medkit she'd brought. 'Difficult', indeed; she felt his hands tighten on her hips as she moved, and he hissed out a very male, frustrated breath as she brushed over him again. "I'm kind of impressed, actually. Horrified, but impressed. You're going to have one hell of an ugly scar, but considering that it would have been a fatal wound for anyone else...."

A smile tugged at his mouth again; smug and masculine as always, but less like he was putting on a show like back at Station P-7, and more like he was genuinely entertained. "Should have known that would be what it would take to get you to straddle me. Chicks dig scars, huh?"

He hissed again as she cleaned and rebandaged the wound, perhaps a little less gently than she could have. But Dahl couldn't keep the note of amusement out of her voice as she replied. "One, not a _chick_. Two, well, it would be hard _not_ to top offering to kill all my friends first."

Riddick tilted his head at that, silver eyes sweeping over her again as though he could see right through her, and dropped a little of the attitude. "To be fair, it wasn't so much your _friends_ I wanted to kill. Johns was the one I thought would fold; and he proved me wrong there. Not many do. Santana's guys, though...." He shrugged, carefully. "I'd be lying if I said I regretted it."

Considering he'd personally killed five out of the seven that crew had started out with? No shit. "And I'd be lying if I said I grieved over any of those dumbshits," she admitted. "Still. Does that in-your-face seduction technique usually work for you?"

"I don't know," he replied, voice warm and smile widening as she finished taping the new bandage back in place. "Is it working for _you_?"

She had to raise an eyebrow at that. With a past like his, and a voice like that? Even half-dead, when she'd pulled him up off that rock in the middle of the storm, his grip on her ass had been firm and sure. "This ain't your first fucking rodeo; don't even try to pretend otherwise. It doesn't suit you."

"Not much time for seduction in a life like mine," he shrugged again, warm, scarred skin shifting under her palms. "Not much opportunity, either, the last ten years or so; I was either on the run, or having it served up to me on a platter. Kinda loses the appeal when you don't know if they're there because of _who_ you are, or _what_ you are."

Dahl couldn't imagine what he meant by that, and wasn't sure she wanted to know; if the last few days were in any way exemplary of the kind of shit that regularly happened in Riddick's life, she was glad that they were going to part ways soon enough, once he'd healed enough to fly Santana's ship on his own. But she got the gist.

"Sure it wasn't in _spite_ of?" she asked, quirking a smile back at him.

She really should be getting up to put the unused supplies away, wad up the used bandages for disposal; but some part of her had been fascinated with the guy ever since she'd seen him take four horse tranq and _still keep fighting_. Strolling in with the storm behind him, cape blowing in the wind; cutting Santana's head off by throwing a sword with his _boot_ because he 'liked to be a man of his word'. For a guy with balls that big, he seemed to _revel_ in people getting up in his face, enjoying the challenge more than the domination — unless he had something against them, like Santana.

He was magnetic as fuck; not going to stick around to try and act like he owned her, even if he she'd misjudged his appreciation; and whatever shit he'd said, had never treated her like he thought she was less capable than the boys. In fact, he'd actually saved _that_ attitude for the Boss; which would've been pretty funny, if it hadn't had to do with Riddick's past with Johns' dead son. And she hadn't exactly had a lot of opportunity lately, herself. 

Maybe she was fucked in the head for even considering it, but didn't they say sex was supposed to be life-affirming in the aftermath of shit like they'd just been through?

"Nah, that distinction was saved for you," he drawled, lifting his brows and then looking conspicuously around the room. "Or do you always treat your patients this ... personally?"

"Nah," she drawled in return, making herself a little more comfortable right where she was. " _That_ distinction was saved for _you_."

"You call _this_ asking sweet-like?" he laughed; but his hands shifted down a little from her hips, thumbs brushing her inner thigh a finger's width from her groin. "Thought you didn't fuck guys?"

"Don't they say there's always an exception that proves the rule?" she replied casually, then reached behind herself to unbuckle her back brace; it was great when she was carrying a big gun around or schlepping gear, not so much when she wanted to let her hair down a little.

Riddick's eyes followed the shift in her cleavage; Dahl remembered his comments about the color of her nipples, and felt them tighten under his assessing gaze. No, she didn't usually fuck guys. But it wasn't so much about dick, as it was the fact that they were _guys_. And she'd never sparked off one like she did with Riddick. Call it the novelty factor, but she was horny as _fuck_ and curious how much he'd let her order him around in bed, if he let her get away with this much out _here_.

"Of course, if you were just talking shit...." she suggested.

His grin grew several degrees sharper; and then he no-shit _stood up_ , like he didn't still have a healing gouge in his chest, taking her with him and turning toward the hall that led to the bunks.

"Like I said," he replied, voice dropping to a growl, "I like to be a man of my word."

"Just so long as you don't spend five seconds on this, too; I have a sniper rifle and I know how to use it," she breathed, gripping his shoulders and leaning in to enjoy the ride.

Riddick's hands tightened on her thighs; and Dahl grinned.


End file.
